The Argosy — page 167: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

154 BABY HELENE. SHE was only the child of the May-day, That came*when the sweet blossoms fell, But rarer than any fair lady Of whom the old poets may tell. Then the days brought us everything sweeter, Of sunshine and love in their train ; But better than all and completer Was Baby Helene. With a kiss and a smile she came to us, The sunshine of God in her hair, Ah! never a sweet wind that blew us _ A blossom so tender and rare. We sang a new May-song together, New-found and of jubilant strain ; Ah! our hearts then were light as a feather, With Baby Helene. Would she stay with us—love us? we bid her Unloosen the notes of her song, And tell where the sweet angels hid her, And why had we waited so long. Would they sorrow in Heaven to miss her? Would they wait for her, weary to pain ? Would they anger to see us but kiss her— Our Baby Helene? And all the day long, like new lovers, Like words that are ever in tune, Like songs the fresh May-wind discovers, Like birds that are mating in June, Together we loved and we wandered, Forgetting of sorrow or pain, Forgetting the sweets that we squandered With Baby Helene. Oh! lips running over to kisses, Red cheeks kissed to brown by the sun, Shall we ever again know what bliss is, When the song and the kisses are done? Oh! baby, brown-haired, on thy tresses The hands of the angels had lain, And joy laughed new-born in caresses Of Baby Heltne. (E() m ,OO